


Notes on Reverie & Discipline

by blancanieves



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon GO
Genre: F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Inner Dialogue, Love Triangles, Multi, Other, POV First Person, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blancanieves/pseuds/blancanieves
Summary: An exploration of the intimate thoughts of young leaders.  These daydreams that breed longing risk fueling impulsion.  Stay the course, remember your lines, and don't stray--Especially if the feeling turns out to be mutual. First person narrative. The first chapter delves into what's on Blanche's mind.  The setting of the events in this story take place around the time of GOFest, and was largely inspired by it.
Relationships: Blanche & Candela (Pokemon), Blanche/Candela (Pokemon)
Kudos: 4





	Notes on Reverie & Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> * I'm only tagging characters who have dialogue in this story so far.

Comparing notes is how we’ve come to conclude our daily routine. It has been logical to do so; our research overlaps quite a bit. As you know, I oversee the handling of evolutionary components and deducting the requirements; Spark is an expert when it comes to breeding and handling Pokemon in their infancy; and Candela, in matters of improving overall stats of a Pokemon, which can involve a combination of stardust and candies. 

To address it as Spark would: “Candy makes the candy.” 

...Ahem. 

So, because candies can trigger the evolutionary outcome of a Pokemon, it is inevitable and without question that I would be working alongside Candela quite often. It’s a fate inescapable. Even if we’ve discovered nothing new, she and I will come together out of a habit that’s formed over the course of these years. If one of us is too sick to appear in person, we’ll connect virtually. In all matters of candy, stardust, and now Rockets, there is always something to discuss. 

Such evenings are somehow intense, yet still quiet. Cozy, if you will. The way my partner shifts from being so analytical in one moment, into a giggling fit the next, was a pattern that alarmed me in the beginning. _Are you really a scientist,_ I’d wanted to ask countless times during our first sessions. Now, I’m happy to be a witness to the gamut of personalities that find themselves called into the field that are Pokemon studies. 

Candela is far more crafty and even more calculative than I had come to imagine. If she loses, she still somehow wins. I have to work hard for my victories against her; she loses gracefully, but you will have most certainly _earned_ that victory. Countless times, I have created elaborate defenses, counting on her weaknesses--proven and potential. And, repeatedly, I have seen her sidestep them before she’d even touch the surface of my hard work. 

As if I were the purest ice, she sees right through me. 

With here, there is no hesitation in matters of reading my face, my eyes, the way my fingers move, the pace of my breath, the tone of my voice, the quivering of my lips. Even down to the way I dress, she knows the language I speak past my mask, intentionally and not. 

I could, at times, feel where those eyes went. It was distressing, yet oddly… alluring. That reaction has yet to change. 

Within six months of observing me, she once asked of me: “You’re upset; aren’t you?” 

“And _why_ do you think this?” I sharply quipped. 

“Your braid; it’s underhanded. When you’re in a better mood and have your hair braided, you’d usually opt for an overhand technique. Right?” 

I found myself paralyzed; _she was right._ My Lapras had come down with Pokerus. While the virus itself is generally beneficial, it doesn’t make the course of the disease any easier to endure. Seeing someone you care about in pain and discomfort weighs heavily on the mind. As always, I kept my more guttural emotional responses suppressed. The issue of anyone knowing what my Lapras was going through wasn’t the problem; the issue was the potential of my raw emotions stifling my work. 

I found myself angry; I had lost control. To opt for a euphemism so many are wont to make: she thawed past my glacial barrier. With this knowledge, would she take advantage of it? 

She did, only…not in the way that I’d feared. 

Candela stopped by to make sure my Lapras was comfortable, and told a story about how her Infernape, then a Monferno, came down with it. The Pokemon’s massive head now resting in her lap, my research partner sang to it a lullaby that I’d never heard--Only to realize along the crescendo that it was _Lugia’s Song_ in a different key. My Lapras, for the first time since falling ill, found enough will to make sound beyond agonized moaning and hummed along with her. 

I looked on at the scene that churned impossible-to-pinpoint feelings from within: a woman who I’d feared, and, in a panic, further embraced water-types into my repertoire. Only to find that she seemed relieved I had done so while jovially complaining about needing a real challenge. Now doting upon the very Pokemon who could potentially, with its gains in its newfound recovery, could likely better withstand her team, if not devastate it, if I calculate my strategy accordingly. 

It dawned upon me that she saw herself as a small part of something much bigger. If we were strong together, it was all that mattered to her. 

She’d said to me some time ago, not the exact words, but akin to: Battles are frequent. They are won, they are lost. But war only has one victory, and that is the victory to focus upon. 

That resonated true, especially now. 

The feeling of partnership and friendship remained stable. However, something else within felt threatened. 

...Something deeper that I’d repeatedly denied myself. 

\-- 

I’ve worried. I’ve found myself knotting up within. I hadn’t fallen ill. I began to follow the pattern that was behind this sudden nuisance. One of the GO Rocket leaders we were up against is a person from Candela’s past. Someone close to her. A rival and a close friend. In a passing and annoyingly irrelevant thought, I immediately processed the possibility of them being doubles partners in that not-so-distant past. 

I found myself thinking about it more, wishing to see the fight they’d engaged in in that field. I thought more about them than I did Cliff. I feel so terribly sorry for Cliff; Giovanni is unworthy of a man that loyal. But I found my thoughts wandering more often to a point that could be deemed unhealthy at worst, counterproductive at best. 

The Salamence were the ones that drove my thoughts into this descent. Candela had one that she loved so dearly. That is not to say that she didn’t love her Pokemon equally, but her closeness and address of the dragon seemed so very unique in of itself. To compare, she addressed her Moltres with a certain deference, as we often did with our signature birds. To further illustrate the relationship, one could say that they were our patrons and we, their scions, in a sense. With the Salamence, however, there was a certain reminiscence and determination that I could never understand-- 

\--Until I learned of Arlo’s possession of a Salamence. Though, his was tainted--as far as I was aware. Likewise, this could all be fallacious; I could be bringing up Sierra and Candela’s Houndooms, mine and Sierra’s Lapras, or Spark and Cliff’s Tyranitars. These coincidences potentially had just as little-to-no grounds for concern. 

...Right? Of course. Of course, I’m right. 

The Salamence themselves shouldn’t be a detail worth my mulling over; however, it drove my curiosity as to who filled the ranks of Arlo’s non-tainted team that Candela had, from what Willow said (who recounted what Candela told him) requested to battle. For old friends who dedicated themselves to the world of Pokemon battles to have matching Pokemon, or Pokemon who were romantically involved, it was often seen as what one might call a ‘cute’ gesture. 

A cute gesture between old friends… 

...Old friends who could be considered to be of ‘marrying age,’ no less… 

To share a pair of dragons was no small matter in certain cultures. After all, Arlo **is** Kantonian; Candela is-- 

If the dragons are or were mates, then, possibly--? 

(I still do not know Candela’s exact age. Her appearance is considerably younger than Spark’s, despite her being the eldest. I attribute this to a number of factors alongside her own healthy habits. One of my admins even teased that Valor’s old guards biologically engineered their higher ranks to fit a certain ideal, to which I immediately dismissed, but considered the potential sciences for my own personal application in terms of enhancing my own mental aptitude permanently.) 

In addition, I suppose Spark being very open to discussing Sierra, but Candela’s withholding of Arlo, fuels my ruminations. Spark and Sierra have shared no past, but the level of transparency he was willing to offer is to be appreciated. 

“...Has she mentioned him to you?” I asked Spark while watching Elekid and my Metagross play together. 

“Nope.” He was careless and quick to reply. I wish he’d not assume before speaking. 

“...You’re aware of whom I’m asking about?” 

“Yeah,” Spark laughed. “Candela and Arlo. It’s all over your face.” 

He wasn’t being careless, and I was wrong about him. 

Sporting the audacity to gesture around the proximity of my own face with his finger just to drive his point home, I felt anger well inside of me. And yet, I wasn’t sure who or what I was angry towards. I quickly deducted that I was mad at the situation itself; that I had let my feelings over the situation shatter my facade. He didn’t need to ask “who” due to the fact I had, apparently, exposed my emotions out in the open more than I’d anticipated. 

“I suppose that Professor Willow is the only one that Candela had spoken with in-depth about him. Are you not curious?” I asked Spark. 

“Of course I’m curious!” he said as Elekid went flying. Nonchalant, Spark raised his hand to catch the flying ball of flailing and laughing energy. He was many things, but the manner that his ‘mother beartic’ side often activated, as effortlessly as taking a breath, never ceased to impress me. 

“You know what, though? When Candy’s ready to speak, she’ll speak! ‘Sides, it’s not like she’s got anything we can actually use! I mean, what’s she going to say? Dude likes boxers over briefs? What are we gonna do with that? Mail him thongs?” 

I was fortunate that my anger had found focus. Spark was right; it was pointless. The thirst for my knowledge was driven by my own selfish desires, nor was it hampering Candela’s performance. If anything, it was a fuel. 

And yet, my desires persisted. And grew. 

_...How would she know what sort of undergarments he preferred? Why would you even use such a crass example, Spark? They were only close friends. Nothing more._

I have had days where I absolutely _abhorred_ Arlo. I’ve yet to speak with him; and yet, the reports from trainers and the fact he’d hurt Candela was beyond enough. 

I had nights where I reveled in our time -- OUR time -- comparing notes with one another. That time Arlo could have shared with Candela, had he behaved and not fled like a spoiled coward, now belonged to me. Her closeness as she leaned over to see my work along the scattered papers and array of holo-screens... 

...The firm, caring squeeze of her hand upon my shoulder; 

...The warmth voluminous breasts brushing against my back when she leaned in for a closer look; 

...The tenderness and melody of her voice uttering my name, telling me how proud she was to be my partner. 

...The scent she wore that often compelled me to lick my own lips. 

...I’ve experienced guilt for this indulging. We are working. I always kept still and drank in those moments. I dismissed the apologies from her when she soon realized how close she leaned over me as I worked in my seat and at my desk. For the record, I do not like it when anyone invades my space uninvited. I’d not prefer it. 

But this? This was acceptable. 

Desirable. 

I always kept my voice to a whisper when I forgave her, and kept my face close to hers. At first, it was never planned; a pleasant accident. But, after conducting enough research regarding such gestures, I found that it was a way to sate this growing need for her I had within. To quell the steam without crossing the professional line, so to speak. 

I began to realize that part of myself had lost control for her. Close to my proximity, I could feel her warmth, combined with that warm, sweet, spicy perfume that most certainly had traces of Salazzle pheromones imbued within. Alone and in the darkness of night, I then found myself yielding to the temptation of vivid fantasies and succumbing to the will of my own wandering hands. 

I felt safe to do so. 

Then, from within a dream, something clicked. 

Awakened by epiphanies is the norm for my course of sleep. I keep a notebook upon my nightstand for such moments. However, this was the first time I felt too horrified to write. I didn’t want the degradation of my thoughts towards carnal desires to be committed to any tangible memory. 

Still; it was a thought that felt as if I were gazing down a void that could envelope me at any time. I kept wanting to know just how close they had been. 

Why are the notes on him so vague? 

Why so much hatred just because of Candela? 

Did she break your heart, losing a Pokemon battle? 

Or stealing your potential title? 

Am I missing something? 

You seriously cannot justify abusing Pokemon because you lost against her! 

You wanted the leadership position; didn’t you? 

No, that’s too easy. That can’t be it. 

_Sometimes that’s all there is to it, Blanche._

Perhaps I’m committing the sin of over analyzing things. I still recall Cliff’s message, chiding me for ‘thinking too much.’ 

(While his observations are… sound, that did nothing to gain the upper hand against me in our previous battles.) 

Perhaps these concerns I ruminate upon weren’t merely carnal desires. Perhaps they were more... 

[He is sly and manipulative.] 

That note. Who’s being manipulated? Why mention this useless detail in our dossier? 

I can only compare him to anything but. I’ve met Rattata who were more sly than he. 

Small. Loud. Does nothing but preach. Preoccupation with humiliation, and announces frequently for his desire to not be embarrassed. And yet, he seems so simultaneously proud and disgusted of Rocket. That isn’t very manip-- 

“Wait.” 

My need to annotate took precedence over my stubbornness. This _might_ be important. I took only a few notes; short ones for column [A]; extensive ones for column [C]. [C] would come to explain [A]. I will **make** [C] explain to me [A]. 

And yet, weeks later, we found ourselves standing beside one another. The subsiding heat from the summer sunset raidated upon us in the glow of victory as we watched the GO Rockets flee. With the aid of Victini’s blessing, we were able to overwhelm what could have become a potential disaster beyond words. One may call such a scene ‘romantic.’ Perhaps that would have been the moment where I should have confessed to her. Perhaps share a kiss? That’s how that sort of thing works; yes? Two warriors, victorious in their pursuits, succumbing to their long-repressed desires. In those stories Candela loved so much, it always seemed to play out that way. 

Almost always. There was that one spy novel she complained for an entire week about. 

Despite my successful duel with Cliff fresh upon my mind, I set aside enough space to recall what I’d observed of Candela and Arlo. 

(Due to the sheer number of witnesses, Spark and Sierra’s battle was not worth recalling and was quite straightforward; to this day, and apparently to Sierra’s chagrin, people still speak of it extensively.) 

I had witnessed the Valors; leader and traitor, from a distance; the unreadable faces; the wordless, pre-battle lingering. The reflection of the sunlight in Arlo’s spectacles from my position obfuscating the legibility of his emotions--while Candela, so expressive as can be with her enrapturing eyes, was no more different from when challenging one of our trainers. _She radiated so much vivacity; and yet, she told me absolutely nothing._

...That was the point; wasn’t it? 

My recollection was suddenly interrupted by that familiar voice so warm and bubbly: “I guess we won’t have any notes to compare tonight, huh?” 

“...I suppose not,” I replied. Of course not; we were uncovering details at an amazing pace; my personal concerns aside. 

Still, my chest began to ache, caused only by what I could only ascertain was due to tension. _Candela; invite me to something after our dinner with the Professor. Ask me something, anything. A showcase battle? A doubles battle with Spark and the Professor? Chess? Would you… Care to spend the night? Anything?_ I couldn’t look at her. I looked at everything and everyone else around me _but_ her. I knew that if I did, she’d call me a Piplup and ask what was wrong. Not that I minded, but I wasn’t ready to allow myself to react to that the way I desired to do so in public. 

She said nothing. 

Before I could take command of the situation and extend my own invitation, I finally directed my eyes where she was _supposed_ to be. 

She was already gone. 

I last glimpsed her waving to Spark and Professor Willow before mounting her Rapidash and taking out beyond the valley’s treeline. 

I took a step forward to call out to her,to simply give her the similar dismissal/greeting that I often did by announcing her name; but the echo of the sound of my heel clicking down on a flat rock seized me by surprise, thus disrupting my usual vocal range into a far more embarrassing octave. 

It was the reverberation of both my voice and that step that suddenly alarmed me. Something about that echo, in my mind’s auditory hallucinations, made it feel as if I were speaking in a chamber. 

No, a _theatre._

What would have been something of a charm in a natural, open space--to hear one’s voice echoing in such a way--triggered a visualization of all the notes that I had taken, and what I had bore witness to today. 

Something’s up. I was now beyond determined to find out just what it was. 

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter, I really tried to capture Blanche's voice: straightforward, but not dead; emotive, but not too much. When I found myself trying to write way more into Blanche's narration, I took that as a moment for Blanche to 'freeze up' and keep themselves in check. I also wanted to write them as repressing something they fully understand, but weren't ready to attribute themselves or act upon it until what they perceived as a threat came into the picture.


End file.
